The First
by The Keddster
Summary: A snapshot of Castle and Beckett 'firsts' from Seasons 1 to 5 and beyond. Not the 'first' of its kind, but I wanted to write, and this wanted to be written. Consider it my acknowledgment of a year of writing fanfiction - I posted my 'first' story exactly one year ago.


Disclaimer: Any resemblance to the fictional characters of Castle, living or dead, is completely intentional. Any implied ownership of, or association with Castle is entirely unintentional. It'd be awesome but alas... never gonna happen.

* * *

The First...

The first time she spoke to him; the tone of her voice, the movement of her mouth, her confidence, her commanding presence all had him mesmerised in an instant. She was close enough that he could smell her perfume and _tall_; tall enough that they were almost eye to eye and he could see the green flecks in her hazel irises. He just couldn't look away, so transfixed that even his fifteen year old daughter noticed. And all these years later he can still get lost in her gaze, especially when the green disappears into passion-darkened brown; liquid chocolate that he just wants to drown in.

The first time she turned him down; the smirk, the lip biting, the breathy, calculated tease of 'you have no idea' left him utterly floored, and that sexy strut away from him had him panting and more than a little aroused. He wanted her, had done since the moment she flashed her badge at him and stared him down, but for one of only a few times in his life, it was so much more than that. He didn't just want to get her into bed, _no_, he wanted to get into her head; that brilliant, serious and determined mind of hers had him beyond fascinated.

The first time he saw a glimmer of the pain of her past; her eyes never left his as he cockily recited _his_ version of _her_ story; "That tells me something happened. Not to you. No, you're wounded, but you're not that wounded. No, it was somebody you cared about. It was someone you loved." He'll never forget the slight quiver of her chin, the barely discernible shine of tears in her beautiful eyes, the harsh swallow she used to hold them back as she bravely held his gaze, but he saw it all; the anguish hidden behind the tough persona and he felt like an asshole. His smug, self-absorbed need to always find the story had hurt her and it affected him more than she ever would have believed in those early days.

The first time she saw through the reckless, conceited playboy persona; his unabashed adoration for his daughter positively radiated off him. The way he talked _to_ her and _about_ her, the way he behaved around her was a revelation. This man-child who, on the surface, appeared to have no boundaries, a grossly inflated ego and very little respect for women, authority or himself, was in fact the doting, sensible and fiercely protective father of a thoughtful, polite, articulate, and well-adjusted daughter and the strength of their relationship was unmistakable. Kate Beckett was stunned.

The first 'Always'; it was meant to reassure - a promise to _always have her back_, to bring her coffee, 'pull her pigtails', _be_ there and it affected her more than she was ready to admit. A six letter word that became _their_ version of three powerful words that neither one was ready to give voice to; feelings that began without their permission and would continue to grow despite other relationships, miscommunications, heartache and secrets, until neither one could fight it. It was and will always be, a palpable, tangible force between them, an undeniable _part_ of them.

The first kiss; it was a ruse, a ploy to distract an armed guard in order to save two of their own. But it was so much more than that, affected them both so profoundly that their shock and fear meant they _never_ talked about it. Their first _real_ kiss; desperate, passionate, emotional, a mutual acquiescence after the pain they'd inflicted on each other. Amidst soul-baring honesty, tearful apologies and hesitant but genuine forgiveness, that first kiss was the start of _them_; the them that they both wanted but had been too afraid to grasp and it was the end - the end of the waiting, the lies and the denial.

The first touch; after the first frenzied explosion of raw need and lust, came the entwining of trembling fingers. Then, as they undressed each other, there was joyful wonder in their eyes as reverent hands and mouths worshipped heated flesh; and finally, amidst still tearful smiles, there was sweet surrender. The last of her wall crumbled, the last of his doubts vanished and they let themselves go. She surrendered completely to this kind, generous and devoted man who loved her despite everything and as he touched her, teased her and loved her with gentle eagerness, she let all of her own long-denied feelings shine out through her eyes; unspoken words given life in every passionate kiss, tender touch and desperate caress she returned.

The first time he made her come; his mouth, hot and wet against her, his fingers searching and sure. She writhed and gasped, and made sounds that were foreign to her own ears as he bought her completely and utterly undone; a quivering, speechless mess, incapable of anything more than panting and grinning as he softly kissed the inside of her thigh and shifted to loom over her; broad, sweaty and breathless as he returned her slightly awed smile with a stunned and adorably smug one of his own. It was hours later that they _both_ lay completely sated and wonderfully exhausted.

The first morning after; initially a sweet exchange of shy glances, tentative questions and smiling reassurances that quickly morphed into gentle teasing and well-practiced banter, all amidst the wonderfully familiar aroma of coffee. And it had looked to be heading toward a repeat of the previous night's _activities_ until the less than dulcet tones of Martha Rodgers reverberated through the loft and burst their bubble of morning-after bliss. Their startled and ungraceful tumble from his bed, Kate's less than voluntary retreat to his closet and Castle's excruciatingly uncomfortable conversation with his mother whilst semi-aroused and naked, nothing but a bed sheet preserving his modesty, had been as mortifying as it was hilarious.

The first time she said I love you; she loved him with a ferocity that was beyond anything she ever imagined and she was certain he knew how she felt about him. He was so good at reading her and her love shone brightly in every smile, was evident in every half-lidded, passion-darkened look when they made love and it was obvious in everything she did for him; from the simple, every-day things right up to elaborate fake murders and surprise birthday parties. But those words spoken aloud, the tearful, raspy "Rick. I love you," had simultaneously filled and broken both their hearts. Like _his_ desperate past declarations, hers came amidst dire circumstances and while this in no way negated the sincerity or gravity of the words, it was the 'I love you's' spoken later that day that they clung to. As they moved together, entwined in a passionate, life-affirming merging of willing bodies, the words came in gentle whispers, desperate gasps and soft moans, and it was everything.

The first glimpse; he was looking towards the ocean, trying to stand still on the perfectly manicured grass, but he was vibrating with nervous excitement... and then he glanced back towards the house. To the figure of Jim Beckett standing proudly in the doorway, his hand outstretched and a whisper of pale fabric visible just beyond the beautifully adorned door frame. Then the music started and she was there, on the stairs of the Hamptons house, on her father's arm, walking towards him and she took his breath away. Chestnut curls piled atop her head, a luminous smile on her beautiful face and a long, almost-white dress softly hugging her curves. She was gorgeous, elegant, graceful and dare he say it... extraordinary and when her eyes locked with his she was already crying; eyes bright with tears and her heart bursting with love. When they danced their first dance as husband and wife she teared up all over again and he teased her; but his eyes were suspiciously bright too, and not for the first time that day.

The first time they _both_ felt it; Kate had experienced it first, obviously, and as it gradually evolved from that first soft flutter, she was desperate for Castle to feel it too. Then one evening, mid hug, her body enveloped in the warmth and strength of his after an emotional and exhausting day, he gave a startled gasp. Finally... with Kate's bump against his own belly, her lips softly pressed to his, they broke into simultaneous grins as their baby kicked a steady beat between them.

* * *

A/N: So this took life as an acknowledgment of the very first fic I uploaded one year ago... and also because my current WIP was basically written (all 20,000 + words of it) and then a story appeared that was basically the same. So I've changed focus a little, edited heavily and it's almost good to go.

Comments/reviews always well received and definitely appreciated. Thanks :-)


End file.
